


High Tea

by fringeperson



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Communication, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Old Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringeperson/pseuds/fringeperson
Summary: Sarah had a nice long list of things that she really needs to talk to the Goblin King about. The question is, how will she arrange a meeting with him to discuss them?~Originally posted in '14
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	High Tea

Presently, Sarah was pacing in her small lounge space. She had a legal pad, a pencil, an eraser, and her best stationary laid out on the coffee table. She was trying to assemble in her head the best way to invited His Majesty back into her life without granting him too great a number of liberties.

Sir Didymus had already told her that faeries – such as His Majesty – were _very_ skilled at twisting words around to suit their desired meaning.

Sarah had to make sure that _her_ words would be twist-proof.

Fortunately, Sarah was both the daughter of a lawyer and extremely fond of florid prose. Both of these details would, she was sure, be particularly helpful in her endeavour to write something that would be twist-proof for His Majesty.

One thing she'd learned fairly early on was the old adage 'the devil is in the details'. Some people took this to mean that the details were the hardest thing to get right. Certainly that was true enough in its way, and Sarah wouldn't argue with the sentiment that details _were_ difficult to get right. On the other hand, the expression could also be taken to mean that the details was where all the loopholes were either able to be found or were supremely shut down. This was the perspective granted to her as the daughter of a lawyer.

Particularly one who was just beginning her own studies in governmental law.

The difficulty really lay in the fact that she wasn't just sending this note to _any_ faerie. She was going to be sending this note to a _royal_. There were certain sorts of etiquette required when dealing with the ruling class. That etiquette made sending a twist-proof letter so much more of a headache for her.

Finally, Sarah came to a decision.

_To His Majesty the Goblin King,_

_May it please His Majesty to be invited to the humble abode in the Above of Sarah Williams for tea, scones, and calm conversation on the Day known in the Above as Monday the Fourteenth of October, at the most respectable Hour known to her as Four in the Afternoon._

_Should this arrangement be inconvenient to His Majesty, please advise by a return missive._

_In Grace and Humility,_

_Sarah Williams_.

Sarah sighed as she sagged back into her couch once the note was written. Now that the hard part was done, she just had to put the note in an envelope and ask Bob (the only goblin she knew who could be trusted with paper) to take the letter to His Majesty.

~oOo~

Bob returned to Sarah a mere fifteen minutes after he'd vanished with her note, and he was waving around a different letter in his bony little hands.

“Letter for Lady from Kingy!” the goblin declared excitedly. Clearly, the small goblin _liked_ playing the part of letter-carrier.

Sarah smiled, though it was a little bit strained. That letter could say anything. It could declare that the time and date she'd suggested were utterly impossible for him, but he would be available in an hour and would come _today_ instead. It could say he wished nothing to do with her and saw no reason to accept her invitation at all. It could be more uncouth and simply say 'bog off!'

She wouldn't know until she read it.

“Thank you Bob,” Sarah said softly, and took the letter from him.

She found her letter-opener and sliced through one edge of the cream-coloured envelope, then delicately pulled out the cream-coloured paper. Written in flowing black ink were these words:

_That sounds delightful, Precious._

_Expect me at four then._

Sarah sagged in relief.

He'd agreed.

His Majesty would be coming for tea, scones, and a talk in her apartment on Monday.

Sarah tensed.

His Royal Glittery Highness would be coming to _her_ apartment for high tea and conversation on Monday!

Oh... Bog-dammit.

“Thank you Bob,” Sarah said again, and moved mechanically to her kitchenette. She picked out a plain, unadorned, unexciting cookie and gave it to the small goblin. She'd learned her lesson about giving goblins cookies with _anything_ in or on them pretty much straight off. Anything capable of getting the old Wise Man dancing that energetically was to be kept _away_ from the younger and naturally more energetic goblins. She had a jar full of the most boring cookies she could make (they still tasted good though) just for rewarding the goblins when they did something for her _that she appreciated_.

For example, she had _not_ appreciated the time they decided to take Merlin for a walk without her permission and had gotten him hit by a car. He'd had to be put down because of that, and he _should_ have had a few more years in him, even if he was getting old.

Irene, who didn't like dogs in the first place, had put her foot down and _refused_ to allow another dog to be even _looked_ for.

That was, however, completely beside the point right now.

Right now, Sarah had to start getting her humble little apartment ready to host high tea and a magical majesty for, quite possibly, a _very_ long conversation.

Goodness knows they were probably both over due a talk, and Sarah's being a 'Lady' was only one of _many_ subjects that they really did need to discuss. At length. And in depth.

Great depth.

Likely plumbing such depths as neither of them really had any particular desire to go.

Still, they now had a time set where they two were going to sit down and, however painful it may be, _talk_.

Sarah took a deep breath, and moved across the apartment to the guest/spare room, where the yet-to-be-unpacked boxes were still lying in wait. Certainly, most of _Sarah's_ things were unpacked, but there were still a few boxes of _Linda's_ things that hadn't been. That's right. When Sarah moved out of her father's house, she'd taken what had been left behind by her mother with her.

Good thing too. There was an appropriately lovely tea set in there among the too-understated-jewels and the no-longer-fashionable-enough dresses – things Linda had decided, upon divorcing Robert, that Sarah was _more_ than welcome to when she was old enough, since _she_ certainly didn't want them.

~oOo~

Sarah had a class to attend at nine in the morning on Mondays. Thankfully, it only went for an hour, even if it _was_ a wretched hour to have to be up on a Monday – Mondays being a terrible day all by themselves without Sarah having to go to class for _one hour_ right at the very beginning of that day.

Once she was released from that class, however, Sarah headed straight for the shops with her short list of things that _had_ to be bought _fresh_ . She already had all the ingredients she needed to make scones, already had many different sorts of spreads _for_ the scones as well. Already had all the ingredients she needed to make cookies of various flavours and varieties. Already had five different varieties of tea – jasmine, vanilla orchid, camomile, the traditional Earl Grey, and she'd even managed to find a _peach_ tea.

The only things missing from her apartment at the moment were fresh flowers (His Majesty might not appreciate flowers, but Sarah would appreciate them) and fresh fruit. Fresh fruit that would include peaches, among others.

When Sarah returned to her apartment so laden, it was nearly noon. Sarah moved as quickly as she could to turn on the oven ready for cooking, then set the flowers in a vase and then set them aside on a doily on the coffee table. It was temporary, and there was nothing like a doily (however grandmother-ish they looked) for keeping coffee tables from getting scratched by vases.

That done, Sarah got cooking. By the time she was finished cooking, it was two-thirty, and both the kitchenette and Sarah were a mess. Sarah hastily removed the apron, washed her hands, dusted herself off as best as she could, washed her hands again, and then set to cleaning her whole apartment with a vengeance, setting things up to be _just so_ as she went.

It was three-thirty by the time she was satisfied, which left her only half an hour to shower, dress, and make herself ready for the arrival of His Majesty. She'd never showered so quickly (yet so thoroughly) in her life. She was saved from having to agonise over what she'd wear by having done that the _previous_ day. She'd chosen a simple, modest, understated, _yet elegant_ gown that Linda had left behind. It fit Sarah like it had been made for her, rather than her mother.

Having played at being an actress since she was old enough to know what one _was_ , and then going on to join theatre clubs and take up roles in school productions, Sarah was already a master of the quick-change, and of applying make-up quickly and in just the right way. Her hair, Sarah simply blow-dried and brushed smooth.

Two minutes to four.

Sarah did another check of her apartment, making sure that everything was perfect. There were no stains on the tablecloth or runner, and the doily was out of sight since the vase of flowers had been shifted to a more appropriate location. The scones were delicately set out on the bottom tier of her treat-stand. Cupcakes were in the second tier, and cookies on the third and final tier. The spreads (including whipped cream) were in small bowls around the stand, each bowl with a dedicated spoon or spreading knife. The cups, saucers, plates, napkins and everything were properly laid. The teas in their little wooden boxes were all lined up on the tea trolley with the teapot and the strainers – so that each of them could have whichever flavour of tea they preferred, even if they didn't care for the same flavour.

The clock chimed the hour.

There was a polite knock at her apartment door.

Sarah swallowed and hastened to open it. She hadn't really expected the Goblin King to enter the traditional way, but if he was, then she was _most_ grateful for it.

He was.

Sarah couldn't help but smile in gratitude at this small gesture in conforming to Above normality. If he'd just appeared in her living room with no warning, or appeared at her window in a gust of wind, with lightning flashing behind... Sarah wasn't at all sure she wouldn't have given herself a coronary.

~oOo~

“Hello Precious,” he greeted softly. “So you really _have_ changed your residence.”

“I have,” Sarah confirmed, her own voice equally soft. “Please come in.”  
“Thank you,” he answered, and stepped across the threshold as Sarah stepped aside to let him.

“You look well,” Sarah offered as she closed the door.

He turned to her and smiled. “You look ravishing,” he countered.

Sarah blushed. “Not the effect I was aiming for,” she stated lowly as she ducked her head. “But a welcome bit of flattery all the same,” she added in soft admission.

“Ah, but Precious, it's only flattery if it isn't true,” he corrected with a smile. “And it is most _certainly_ true.”

“I should argue that 'ravishing' is a verb, not an adjective,” Sarah protested as a small smile of her own forced itself onto her face. “But I'd probably be better advised to just let the whole discussion of my appearance fall by the wayside, or we'll never get to the more important matters. Or the tea.”

“We do have matters of greater gravity to discuss,” the royal agreed, though with some minor reluctance. “Though I would very much like to continue simply appreciating your lovely self.”

“You can do that just as easily when we are seated, I'm sure,” Sarah countered wryly. Goodness knows she had likewise been appreciating _his_ form since she'd opened her door to him. She'd just been more subtle about it than him.

Then again, His Majesty was rather overt in _displaying_ his very magnificent self. The barest of glances treated a person to sights fit to fuel the most private sorts of fantasies for weeks and months and years to come.

He smiled back in agreement, and Sarah indicated for him to take a seat at her table. It wasn't large enough to qualify as a dining table, but it still had enough size to it to comfortably fit a few more people. Not that there _were_ more right now, and hopefully it would stay that way for the duration of His Majesty's visit.

“Now, I insist that we do _not_ skip the pleasantries, Precious,” he said with a smile when she joined him at the table. “I'm interested to know what you have been doing since our last encounter, and when I enquire after your health, please know that it is a _genuine_ enquiry.”

Sarah smiled a little. “I'm healthy at the moment, though I get the same bout of sniffles everybody else does when winter rolls around. That seems to be the worst of it for me though. As for what I've been up to... well, school, mostly, and moving out of my dad's house. What of yourself?”

“Heavy the crown, and all that,” he answered with a sigh. “And I was interminably lonely, until I received your invitation to tea. I thank you for this concession, Precious,” he added sincerely.

“There's a long list of things we really _do_ need to talk about,” Sarah replied cautiously as she reached for the teapot. “Do you have a preference?” she asked.

He indicated the peach tea silently.

Sarah placed the leaves for that tea into two strainers, settled the strainers over the cups, and carefully poured the boiling water over all, careful not to spill.

“Indeed we do,” he agreed when she returned his teacup to him. “Perhaps we should compare lists, start at the top, and work our ways down them. I'm sure you have written out the topics you wish to discuss. I know that I have.”

Sarah nodded silently, and slid out the shallow drawer that was part of her tea trolley. From within the drawer she produced a little note-pad, which did indeed have a list of things she felt that they needed to discuss.

With a casual wave of his hand, a small scroll containing a similar list appeared in the gloved hand of His Majesty.

The two lists were set down on the table, side by side, and compared by the two who had produced them.

~oOo~

They didn't get up from the table for much. Quick trips to the bathroom that were necessitated by the amount of tea they drank. Sarah occasionally had to return to the kitchenette for more boiling water, more scones, more cupcakes, more cookies... whatever they'd just run out of.

Then Sarah noticed the sun setting outside her window as she returned with the latest pot full of hot water, and twisted her head around to check the time.

“Huh,” she said softly.

“Something the matter, Precious?” he asked as _he_ emerged from her small bathroom.

“I just noticed the time,” Sarah answered as she set down the teapot. “As much as we've been eating sweets all afternoon, it's about that time when a more substantial meal is sought out.”

“Well, we do only have one item left to discuss,” he pointed out. “And I'm sure that if we were to take that conversation to a restaurant, no one would think anything out of the ordinary should they overhear us.”

Sarah looked down at that last item on their agenda, and couldn't help but agree. People dining as a two-some in restaurants _frequently_ discussed how present they would – or would not – be in the life of their dining companions. There was, however, a problem with that proposal.

“I'm a bit over-dressed for any restaurant that would let us just walk in without a reservation,” Sarah pointed out. “Then again, it is _Monday_ , rather than Friday or the weekend, so a nice place might _not_ be completely booked out. Though, once we get there, there's the issue of being able to afford whatever they've got on the menu...”

“Or perhaps I could return the courtesy, Precious?” he offered lightly. “Have dinner with me in my castle.”

Sarah raised a suspicious eyebrow, though an amused smirk danced at one corner of her lips.

“Is that a request or a demand?” she queried, just a little pointedly.

“Ah,” he said, and hesitated. “My lady, would you please do me the honour of allowing me to host our evening repast in my castle on this fine even-tide?” he asked, and bowed low, a hand held out to her in hope

Sarah laughed. “I would be delighted to accept your gracious invitation Sire,” she answered, and slipped her own hand into his.

At the beginning of the day, Sarah would most certainly _not_ have accepted that invitation, but they'd just spent several hours sorting through all of the issues they had, and... as many issues as they'd had, that many resolutions and compromises had been reached.


End file.
